


the prince and the pauper

by Anonymous



Category: Rocketman (2019) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Richard is a prince in this one, Taron Egerton is a cat person and I will die with that fact, and Taron is a pauper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 18:35:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19301467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: richard is a prince who’s only months away from being crowned the king of his land. taron is homeless, jobless, and taking care of his two young sisters (and a cat).taron is caught trying to steal to feed his sisters, and after only a few hours in his cell, he’s sent to stand before the prince himself. what does richard want with a lowly peasant boy?





	the prince and the pauper

**Author's Note:**

> this is really rushed, i know, but. they’re so cute.
> 
> this takes place in a completely different alternate universe, it has no historical value whatsoever, and i do not own the rights to taron or richard’s names, nor any other people mentioned. thanks :)
> 
> (lowercase is intended)

taron is poor. it’s just a fact of life, nothing new. he’s always known the pain of hunger, wrenching its way through his body. he’s become accustomed to the life of a thief, snatching an apple here, some corn there. he has no means of getting a job, he’s too old for an apprenticeship, and as a child he had been too sickly to start training for a lifelong job.

his life isn’t all bad, he supposes. he has his sisters, and they’ve found a stray cat that wanders in and out of their pitched tent. sometimes, if they’ve managed to scrounge enough food to have small bits leftover, they’ll leave some for the cat. his sisters never decide on a name, so he’s taken to just calling the cat “kitty,” and the moniker seems to have stuck.

he’s been watching a woman run her stall at the market for a while now, waiting for her to finally tire and take a break. his knees ache, and his head is pounding, the familiar dizzy feeling of dehydration setting in. he’s been in this situation before, and he’s absolutely sure that he has at least an hour left in him before his body succumbs to the exhaustion. he underestimates the power of the hot sun, though, because just as he’s jumped up and managed to grab a small, day-old loaf of bread, the dizziness amplifies. he hears a shout as he falls, the noises and sights around him seeming to blur. it happens in slow motion, and the last thing he remembers is the feeling of being harshly tossed into the shoulders of a much bigger, broader man.

 

•••

 

richard is just beginning his walk through the gardens, which had become a daily occurrence since his parents’ deaths, when he tunes into gossip from two of the gardeners, busying themselves while pruning the rosebushes.

“that poor lad. and all for a day old loaf of bread! i’ve heard from one of the cell guards that in the time he’s been awake he’s only cried and asked to see his sisters.”

“sisters?”

“mhm. says they’re too young to be by themselves.”

richard puzzles over the conversation for a moment before it dawns on him. they must be talking about a new prisoner. a man arrested for nothing more than a loaf of bread? richard can scarcely believe how unfair it must be. and to think, this man has a family to take care of as well? leaving behind two young girls, unable to take care of themselves?

his wandering thoughts come to a halt as they continue to talk, having already moved on from the topic. he deviates from the cobble path and addresses the gardeners directly.

“excuse me,” he begins, only to be cut off by both of them bowing quickly.

“your highness!”

he tries extremely hard to not to grimace - and, truth be told, probably fails - then offers them a small smile.

“yes, thank you, who were you talking about? the young man?”

they exchange a glance, as if communicating quietly. one of them answers shortly,

“he was arrested today in the market. stole a loaf of bread and then fell ill, poor thing didn’t even know he had been taken in until he woke up in his cell.”

richard feels the anger simmering in his chest, but thinly veils it with a nod in their direction. something needs to be done.

 

•••

 

taron’s been begging his guards to do something, to find his sisters, to let him send a message to them for hours. they only stare ahead at the wall, occasionally shifting their weight from foot to foot. he grows more and more desperate, his cries turning into wheezing, choking sobs. the poor girls - they must be terrified by themselves. he’s almost too far gone into his head to see another member of the guard approaching, whispering to the two closest to his cell. one of them nods, then turns to face him. his face is expressionless, but his eyes are kind, and they convey a deep sadness.

“get up, son.”

taron waits with baited breath, confused.

“what-“

“get up. the prince requests your presence.”

taron - who is completely dumbfounded - nods. as he stands, the shackles around his wrists clank and rattle. his head pounds with the sounds, still aching.

as they walk, his head races with reasons why the prince could possibly want to see him. maybe he’s been charged with more than one count of theft- maybe the prince will be giving him his sentence. maybe he’ll be forced into indentured servitude, maybe thrown into a different cell, one surrounded by men much tougher than himself. maybe he’ll even be sentenced to death... none sound appealing. he’s guided into a carriage with barred windows and a locking door, and with the crack of a whip, he’s on his way to the palace.

the setting around taron drastically changes as soon as he enters the palace grounds. when he’s released from the carriage - wagon, really - his shackles are unlocked, and immediately a young woman brings a bucket of water that has a ladle swinging around inside.

“have a drink, my dear, and follow me. his highness will see you shortly.”

taron’s absolutely flabbergasted by this. by the kindness being shown toward him. perhaps this is some sort of cruel trick - maybe the prince is getting his hopes up, only to bestow a terrifying fate upon him. he accepts the water, though, gulping down ladleful after ladleful like a dying man. as he’s led into the doors of the palace, he stares up into the stars, praying for mercy from whomever will listen. the stars seem to sparkle a bit brighter in response.

 

•••

 

richard hasn’t stopped pacing in his throne room since he demanded to see the prisoner. this isn’t the first time officers in the marketplace had been less than kind toward the unfortunate. he hates how twisted the laws seem, favoring the rich while damning the poor. it’s been nearly two hours, and he’s just about to lose his mind when the doors swing open and a young man, dirty and terrified, is brought before him. the man, underneath all the grime, has to be the most attractive person richard has ever laid eyes upon. he has a permanently sad expression seemingly set into his features, but what beautiful features they are. his jawline and cheekbones are sharp, and with a bit of nutrition, his face will soften, but richard is willing to bet that the defined jaw will stick around. he has wide, bright eyes, ones that richard are drawn to almost immediately. he stands slumped forward, but anyone could see that the man has broad, strong shoulders, and his legs are strong. he’s built like a runner.

before richard knows what is happening, the young man is bowing down, refusing to lift his head. richard dismisses everyone but his personal guard, and when they’ve all left, he turns softened eyes to the trembling man at his feet.

“stand up, i won’t hurt you. i understand you were arrested on account of theft?”

the man stands, still shaking a bit, and nods.

“yes, yessir. your highness.”

the normally agitating references to his authority have become endearing, and richard finds himself smiling warmly at him.

“please, call me richard. your name?”

“taron. taron egerton. i apologize sincerely for what i’ve done, it’s just, my sisters have no one left and i’m unable to find work, and there’s no other way for them to-“

“to eat?”

taron quickly averts his eyes away from richard again. they’re pointing back to the ground, but this time out of shame. he’s ashamed of his social class, of his inability to provide for his sisters. richard obviously isn’t able to understand, but he knows how he would feel in taron’s shoes.

“where do you live, taron?”

 

•••

 

taron draws in a breath in an effort to soothe his nerves, then answers,

“outside of the market. my sisters and i have a tent pitched. please, someone has to find them and take care of them, they’re so young! they can’t do this by themselves-“

“they won’t. i will send a party to collect your sisters. for tonight, i’m having a bath prepared for you, and a room is ready for you to sleep in. you and i will reconvene tomorrow, after you’ve had a long night’s rest, and you may explain your situation then. your sisters will be given baths and warm beds as well.”

taron is in shock, in silence. he opens his mouth, then closes it again, then opens it again. nothing is making sense. a bath? and a warm bed? this must be a dream, it can’t be true - why would the prince care so much about him?

 

•••

 

richard has a plan - an idea, of sorts, to keep taron and his sisters off the streets. it’s crazy, it’s impulsive, he knows. were his parents alive, they would most certainly disapprove.

that almost makes him want to put it into action faster.

the girls are young enough, he thinks, that he can put them into a tutoring program and avoid putting them through the stress of adjusting to a new life without guidance. taron’s situation is a bit more tricky. he’ll have to pull strings, tap into some unused political power.

he’s not quite sure what it is about this man that has him so invested; perhaps it’s that taron fell victim to generational poverty, and was one of the many who were unable to dig themselves back out of it. maybe it was taron’s pleas for his sister, maybe it was something else. all richard knows is that he desperately wants to help the little family, and maybe get to know taron a bit better.

 

•••

 

taron’s never been treated to such luxury before. the bath is scented with oils, there are maids handing him different soaps - some is for his hair, they tell him, and some for his body - and he’s pretty sure that new clothes have been folded and placed in a plush chair a few meters away from the bath. just as he’s getting sleepy, a well dressed man presents him with a robe, then says,

“his highness will come to bid you goodnight soon. dress yourself when you’re dry.”

taron nods dazedly, too distracted by the silky-soft robe that he’s wrapped in. before he realizes it, he’s alone, sitting on a massive bed in the robe, staring at the clothes laid out on the chair. there’s a knock at the door before it swings open, the prince striding in and gently closing it behind him.

“still undressed, i see?”

there’s a light, joking lilt to his heavily accented voice, and it flusters taron to no end.

“oh- oh! i’m just-“

he sees the prince - richard - crack a small smile as he sits on the other end of the bed.

“i know that i previously said that we would discuss your future tomorrow, but i’m afraid i can no longer wait. your sisters arrived earlier, and are tucked snugly into a bed together. they asked for you. they seemed very excited,” richard is smiling openly this time, and his deep chuckle seems contagious to taron, who begins to giggle quietly.

“well, i imagine it must be a shock to them. it certainly is to me.”

there’s a period of silence, soft and comfortable, and taron realizes that sometime during the short conversation, he’s found himself much closer to richard than before. he glances up, just to see the prince, and to his surprise finds the handsome monarch completely engrossed in watching taron bite his lip.

“right, so. i’ve decided to make you a lord of the court.”

 

•••

 

richard can see the exact moment that the weight of his words hit taron. the younger man blinks for a moment, nodding, then his eyes widen to a disproportionately large size, and he begins to stutter and choke on his own words. richard can’t help himself from reaching out to gently grasp onto taron’s forearms.

“your sisters will be educated by the best of tutors, and you will spend time with me to begin to understand your roles and responsibilities-“

“why me?”

the question takes richard aback, and he flushes a light pink, coughing.

“i’m... i’m not quite sure. you can’t help your status, you certainly did not choose this life. you only want the best for your sisters. i want to help you give the best to them. traditionally a lord would have his own land, and until i can sort that out, you will live here. the clothing being tailored for you will be moved to my wing of the palace, that is where your bed quarters will be. this is all your decision, though, i would never dream of making you-“

“making me?! you’re- you’re practically handing me a title and land, you’re making me a rich man!”

richard laughs at that, trailing one hand up taron’s arm. he squeezes the young man’s bicep and smiles brightly, his eyes falling back down to taron’s lips.

“yes, well. i’m allowed to do that.”

there’s another comfortable period of silence, and richard belatedly realizes that he’s still gently holding onto taron. he begins to move away, to pull his hands back, but taron shows a stroke of boldness and grips onto his hands.

 

•••

 

taron isn’t sure where he’s getting his courage from, but he praises the higher power that’s giving it to him. richard’s hands are soft, but the areas just under each finger are calloused, a trademark of the grip of a swordsman. taron gives the prince a toothy grin, leaning in a bit closer before whispering,

“i’ll be moving into your wing then? any ulterior motives, your highness?”

he feels richard’s warm breath ghosting over his cheek while the prince huffs out a laugh and slides his arm to rest loosely around taron.

“perhaps, now that you’ve mentioned it.”

 

•••

 

richard isn’t sure what he’s thinking when he leans in to press a gentle kiss to the corner of taron’s mouth, but he’s glad that he does. taron’s reaction is instant; a delighted gasp and another giggle, followed by a light swat to richard’s arm.

“you’re a shameless flirt, your highness.”

richard simply shakes his head, taking in taron’s prettiness in the flickering candlelight. he lifts one of taron’s hands to his mouth and presses a gentle kiss to the bruised knuckles.

“only with the prettiest of my lords.”


End file.
